


Little Ember

by HopeStoryteller



Series: Gleefully Voicing This Eulogy [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: .......does it count as dehumanization when they're all bugs, Angst, Character Death, Child Death, Dehumanization, Gen, Grimm adopts a vessel, Grimm and PK may or may not be exes, and by that I mean they kinda were already, anyway I'm not tagging this with Grimm/PK, because I don't want people to get annoyed, but now they REALLY are, please mind the tags, that's it that's the fic, when it's literally just them yelling at each other over kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: They look up at the light, in a color they cannot name, and they dream.
Relationships: Vessels & Vessels (Hollow Knight)
Series: Gleefully Voicing This Eulogy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028826
Comments: 27
Kudos: 78





	Little Ember

It is dark. It has always been dark, except for when the light comes from above. The light is bright, but somehow the light is colder than the dark below. So, unlike most of their siblings, the vessel remains at the bottom, in the safe darkness. They huddle close with other, like-minded siblings, and try to catch the braver ones when they fall.

They fail, most of the time. Sometimes, even when they succeed, their masks are already cracked and lifeless.

But they try. And they keep looking up, even though the white light scares them. The white light tempts their siblings, and then sends them falling back down. The white light kills them. The white light is not to be trusted, the vessel knows, but sometimes it is _oh so tempting…_

So it is that they are looking up when the white light returns. It is not alone, this time. There is a flash of brilliant color, and then another.

They don’t know what to call it, but it is a new color. Strange. Unfamiliar. But warm, unlike the white light.

The white light isn’t enough to tempt them to climb. But _this_ light… _this_ light might be enough. If they fall, then… they fall. If they don’t climb now, they’ll never find out what the color is.

They chirp to some of the others. Most of the usual climbers shake their heads or chirp a dissent. Most of the usual stayers don’t even bother responding. But one other sibling, their twin. Born from the same egg, with those same upturned horns upon horns atop their heads. But while they have little horns jutting out down from the side of their head as well, their twin doesn’t.

This has never bothered them, nor their twin. But with their twin climbing with them… they feel safer, more confident. They can do this.

Together, the vessels climb. They pull up their twin beside them, and their twin pulls up them as well. It’s a momentous climb, and more than once they both nearly fall, but at last—they’re almost there.

Voices can be heard up above. _Actual_ voices, not the clicks and chirps of their siblings. Neither they nor their twin can understand them, but they understand enough to know that _one_ of them sounds _angry._

Their twin hesitates. They spur them on. They just want a glimpse.

There is a name, and then, “What the _fuck?”_

“Grimm, I have only done what was necessary.”

“Necessary? _Necessary?_ So instead of finding out why my sister is throwing a temper tantrum, your plan is to… drop _thousands—“_

“Millions, if need be.”

“—of your _own children_ into _that,_ hope that _one_ of them is ‘perfectly hollow,’ and imprison her in _your own child_ instead of _talking about it?”_

“There is nothing to talk about. She has delivered her ultimatum, and I am only responding in kind.”

The source of the lights come into view, at last. The white light is from a tall, pale thing, with horns circling their head. The colored light is from something… else. Taller than the pale thing, much taller, with a tattered black cloak not unlike their siblings and furious, glowing eyes in that other, brilliant color.

“I thought she was lying about you,” the colorful thing says at last. “Now I am no longer sure. If you are willing to drop even _one_ of your own children into the Abyss, then I can only imagine what you have done to hers.”

“The moths I have spoken with express satisfaction with my governance, and are content to remain under it so long as they can still worship her.”

“And I don’t suppose you have anything to do with how many have turned up dead lately, is that it?”

“My subjects are under _my_ protection, and my laws. This ensures they will receive justice should someone attack or kill them, but the laws do not prevent crime—only react to it.” The pale thing clears their throat. “I don’t suppose she told you about the Infection, now, did she? Brothers are attacking brothers. Husbands are attacking husbands. Parents are attacking children, all under _her_ cursed influence. I have an entire _kingdom_ of bugs to think about, and I _cannot_ focus on protecting moths when the entire kingdom dreams of orange and wakes up with murder in their eyes.”

Together, the vessel and their twin jump. Their twin makes it to the ledge the voices are standing on. They barely catch the ledge.

“Besides,” the pale thing says, turning to face their twin, “perhaps this will be my Pure Vessel. Perhaps this can all be over, and we can be done with this cursed place. Vessel. Look at me. Step forward.”

Their twin looks at them, and shuffles forward obediently.

“And what,” the colorful thing asks, “if they are _not_ your Pure Vessel? You can’t kill your own children a second time.”

Several things happen then, in quick succession. Their twin looks back, reaching for them. The pale thing’s face hardens, and they raise a hand. The colorful thing also raises a hand, but not fast enough. A blade shimmers into being and, before it is even completely formed, shoots through their twin’s head.

Their twin goes flying backwards, but a quick look proves that their mask is already cracked in two. It shatters as they watch, and the pieces fall. So does everything else that’s left of their twin.

Thick, black Void wells up from their eyes, even as they still hold on for dear life. They might as well not even try. Why _did_ they even bother trying? All trying got them was the privilege of seeing their closest sibling _murdered._

But they hold on, out of a fear of falling now more than anything else.

“I can, I did, and I will continue to do so,” the pale thing says impassively. “It was not alive. It was never _truly_ alive, merely a shade reanimated by Void.”

“And what if they were?” The colorful thing walks to the edge. They kneel. And, quite suddenly, they spot the vessel.

Terrified, the vessel chirps weakly. They are expecting to be blasted into tiny, terrified pieces. They are not expecting arms to come out from under the cloak, pulling them up and onto solid ground, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, underneath said cloak… that, from underneath, does not seem to be a cloak at all, but _wings._ The colorful thing holds them there, one hand gently rubbing their back as they stand again.

“There is no cost too great to stop her,” the pale thing says as the colorful thing turns. “You haven’t seen what I have seen. This is the only way that will ever work, do you understand?”

“I understand,” the colorful thing replies, “but not, what I suspect, you want me to. I will leave your kingdom. I will return when it is dying, whether from my sister’s unleashed fury or your own folly, and I will be here to make certain that when you go into the night, you do not go gently. Goodbye.”

They take one step past the pale thing, two, three. They still clutch the sobbing vessel to their chest. There is no way the pale thing noticed, and yet…

“Do not take me for a fool, Nightmare King. Return what you have stolen.”

The Nightmare King stops, but does not so much as look back. _“Stolen?_ On the contrary, I have not taken anything you will miss.”

“It could be the Pure Vessel to end all this.”

“And if _they_ are not, you will kill them without a thought. I will do the Wyrm I used to know the courtesy of remaining neutral in this fight. However, should you attempt to harm a member of my troupe—and make no mistake, they _are_ a member of my troupe now—you will face the wrath of not one god, but two.”

Something in that same brilliant color flares to life around the Nightmare King, punctuating his statement. Whatever it is, it burns in a way that looks almost like the vessel’s horns, and that only makes them sob harder.

“Fine. Take it,” the Wyrm says at last. “Take it, and _begone.”_

“With _pleasure.”_

The Nightmare King starts walking again, faster this time—but once they are out of sight of the Wyrm, he slows a little, rubbing the vessel’s back harder as he draws them out from under his wings and sets them down. They sniffle.

“No mind to think, my _ass,”_ the Nightmare King mutters, kneeling before them. “It’s… I won’t say it’s okay, for I am not in the business of lying to others outside of extreme circumstances. It may never _be_ okay, little one. But I can at least save one of the children he never deserved from him.”

They look back now, and say, quietly, “I wish I could save them all.”

The vessel, of course, understands none of this. But they do recognize the sentiment behind the words, and so they hug the Nightmare King’s leg and keep sniffling. The Nightmare King scratches their head between their horns.

“My name,” they say, “is Grimm. We will have to find a proper name for you as well, but for now, _little one_ will work. Come now. For all I told _him—_ “ (They glare back the waythey had come.) “—I would rather not fight him one on one, particularly not where a child is concerned, and my sister is… stubborn. Let us go.”

The little one nods. They take Grimm’s extended hand, and only flinch a little when, in a flash of that brilliant color, their surroundings give way to tents and fairgrounds.

(Much later, when their father happens to offhandedly mention an _ember_ as being the start of a fire—they decide they like that. They decide they like that very much.)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my vessel OC I finally caved and made. goddammit Link. GODDAMMIT RORY. y'all got me. their name is Ember and they're what results when Grimm goes vesselnapping. they're tiny and traumatized and I want to hug them. (also they may or may not show up at some point in other Hollow Knight fics, but ya didn't hear that from me :P)


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